Before the rains come, there is warm, early-autumn light. It's the best light. Oh, I love love love it.

On Sunday afternoon we wandered around up near the park near the woods. When we were tired we climbed a long hill and put the quilt under that big green canopy of leaves you see up there and were drowsy. So nice. Warm. Dappled light. The sound of leaves rustling. No talking. Just resting. Quiet. Then some dude came along and started playing the BAGPIPES. For an hour. It had to have been an hour. And when I say playing I mean practicing. Not even complete songs. Just parts. It was seriously deafening and sort of hilarious. He cleared out the park. We were too lazy to move. Portland.

Hi. I feel compelled to tell you a little bagpiping story of mine. Once, I was taking a long walk one afternoon. I had something I needed to work out and I needed to think so I set off on a back dirt road near my house in Vermont. It was fall. It was beautiful. Every now and then I would get an amazing view when the trees cleared and there was a field. It was gorgeous. That fall light, the changing leaves... and then I started thinking I was humming Scotland the Brave... just faintly... but with every step past the old apple orchard, the trees looked like old ladies dancing, the song was getting louder. And then it would start over. I should have walked the other way but I could not help walking toward the pipes. I didn't want to, I had never liked the bagpipes, but with every new start of Scotland the Brave I got closer and closer. Then, in the middle of nowhere, I turned a corner and there was the guy piping. In a kilt. And fancy Aran sweater. And I caught up to him because he was marching as if he was in a parade. Over and over again, Scotland the Brave, a few bars in... He stopped and talked to me for a minute and he was in fact practicing to be in a parade. The following spring.

Sounds like our family get together at the campground last week when some kid was practicing Mary Had a Little Lamb on his horn. REALLY? At the state park campground?! Luckily, it didn't last too long!

Thank you.
I was so absorbed in the gorgeous beauty, the practically tangible loveliness of your post, that I was nearly lost in even more wanderlust and longing for far places, a change of season... and then: the bagpipes saved me from a terrible case of envy and fruitless pining. Laughter, and beauty, a sweet combination.

Dear Alicia
I'm following quite a lot of blogs, but of all the photographs I'm looking at when I read them, yours are my favorite and so I'm always looking forward to new posts. They are so beautiful and the way you share the snippets of your life is so lovely.
Thank you.
Love, Lea

Beautiful pictures & I agree about that lovely autumn light. Although it is still too warm here, the mornings are dappled with golden light & crispy air. That bagpipe would have driven me nuts even on a beautiful day lying under a shady tree. You are to be commended for hanging in there!

I couldn't resist this one......
As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a grave side service for a homeless man. he had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a paupers cemetery in the Kentucky back country. As I was not familiar with the back woods, I got lost; and being a typical man did not stop and ask for directions. I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was no where in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch. I felt badly and apologized for being late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down and saw that the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what to do, so I started to play. The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around, I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. As I played "Amazing Grace"' the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, " I never seen nothin' like this before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."

About

My name is Alicia Paulsonand I love to make things. I live with my husband and daughter in Portland, Oregon, and design sewing, embroidery, knitting, and crochet patterns. See more about me at aliciapaulson.com